Banebringer

by Carol A Park

  Vaughn shuddered, as though he had never thought of that.

  “Presumably.” Citalli gave Ivana a look of distaste and turned away.

  “Who is your patron?” she asked Citalli.

  “We don’t know,” she said. “But I’m a charmblood.”

  Vaughn smirked, and Ivana could tell he was refraining from making some remark about that. Clearly, there was some history between those two.

  “Good enough,” Ivana said. “Can I have a sample of your blood?”

  She frowned, but did as she was asked, smearing a sample onto a new slide Ivana laid out for her. She then snapped her fingers at Vaughn. “Your blood. On the slide. Quickly.”

  Vaughn obeyed, and Ivana looked at the sample under the microscope.

  As she had predicted, nothing happened. The aether—she couldn’t tell them apart—ate the blood jointly, and then froze. Vaughn stole a look when she was done. “Where is this going?” he asked, clearly unimpressed.

  “Do you have someone with Xichtantal as their patron here?” Ivana asked, ignoring his question. It was a guess, and based on the myth Vaughn had described to her and later, her own research into it, she was fairly certain it was a correct one.

  Vaughn raised his eyebrow. “A sunblood? Yes. Several.”

  “Do we have samples of their aether? Pure, not mixed with anything else?”

  Again, they both looked at Citalli. She sighed and gave up her show of indifference. She opened a cabinet nearby. Inside was a long row of vials set into racks. Tiny labels were underneath, and she ran her finger along them until she found the one she was looking for. She pulled it out and held it up to the light, shaking it slightly.

  “Ah,” she said, shaking her head. “Cork was compromised. I’ll have to heat it before you can use it. Sorry.”

  “Heat it?” Ivana said to Vaughn while Citalli did just that.

  “It solidifies under two circumstances,” Citalli said, either because she thought Ivana was talking to her, or because she thought Vaughn wouldn’t know the answer and was finally deciding to be proactively helpful. “First, when it’s exposed to air. Second, when it cools. Possibly a combination of the two, but we know that if we heat it—or even if it’s really hot outside—it will liquefy again, momentarily, until it cools back down. We also know that if we contain the liquid aether in a fairly air-tight container, it will stay liquid for longer, depending on how air-tight, regardless of how cool it is.”

  “Fascinating,” Ivana muttered.

  “It’s liquefying,” Citalli said, shaking the vial over a flame. “It doesn’t take much. Whatever you need it for, now is the time.”

  “Your blood again,” Ivana said.

  Vaughn obediently squeezed out another drop of blood onto a slide, and Citalli provided a needle to dip into the vial. A small drop stuck to the end, and Ivana tapped it into the blood sample, and then quickly put it back under the microscope.

  She breathed out slowly. Burning skies, she was right. She was right.

  The aether was acting the same way as the formula, even though it only contained one type of aether.

  “You sure this is only sunblood aether?” Ivana asked.

  “Positive. Why?”

  “Take a look. Quickly.”

  Citalli cast her a curious glance and then looked through the microscope. She took one long look, blinked, and then stared at Ivana. “That’s impossible. It’s not the formula. It’s—”

  “—her rival,” Vaughn cut in, after taking his own look. “Burning skies.”

  “Whose rival?” Citalli asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “My patron, Thaxchatichan. Xichtantal is her rival, the brother that cut off her head.” He put one hand to his face and ran it over the entirety of it several times. “Damn.”

  He saw it. It took him a little longer, but he finally saw it. Ivana nodded at him in acknowledgement.

  Citalli was already preparing another slide, needing to see for herself. She pulled another vial out of the cabinet, mixed a drop of aether from each vial together, and put the sample under the microscope. “Impossible,” she muttered again.

  She started working with a flurry, pulling the entire rack of vials out of the cabinet and combining different aethers. Ivana moved aside to let her do whatever she needed to. As far as Ivana was concerned, she had substantial evidence that she was right.

  “Iceblood and fireblood,” Citalli muttered. “Of course. I understand now.” She mixed another set of aethers together and then frowned. “I would think…” She shook her head. “Doesn’t happen with lightblood and darkblood.”

  “Doesn’t necessarily follow that because they’re opposites, they’ll be rivals,” Ivana put in.

  “True,” Citalli said, sounding excited now, and apparently finally unconcerned that Ivana was the one giving suggestions. “What would be the opposite of a beastblood, after all?”

  “Beastblood?” Ivana was trying to figure out what that particular gift would mean.

  “It’s how we make the weapons that kill bloodbane,” Vaughn said. “Their aether somehow repels them, so we seal it in weapons, making them more effective.”

  “Do you know the patron?”

  “Um, Tiuhtanah, I think.”

  “Is that the one who had a contest with the lightblood god?”

  “Taniqotalin? Yes.” Vaughn slapped his forehead and turned to Citalli. “Try lightblood aether to combat beastblood.”

  She looked at him askance, but did as Vaughn asked.

  “That’s why your arrows work so well?” Ivana asked, returning to his earlier comment while Citalli worked.

  “Yes.”

  “I knew you couldn’t be that good.”

  Vaughn chuckled. “Thanks. Appreciate your confidence.”

  “Do you have to be a Banebringer to use the weapons?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You have to activate it, just like with any aether.” He didn’t mention the possibility that they could mix a non-Banebringer’s blood with a beastblood’s and create weapons that person could use, so Ivana didn’t either.

  To the abyss with the Conclave. This group of Banebringers had discovered a way they could arm non-Banebringers against bloodbane, but because the priests were so blind with hatred toward Banebringers, they’d never be able to reap the benefits.

  Ivana shook her head. Stubborn fools.

  “It works,” Citalli announced. “Lightblood versus beastblood.” She didn’t appear to be talking to them directly, as she went right back to work.

  Ivana glanced at Vaughn, wondering if he had yet followed this theory to its end. He looked…disappointed wasn’t the right word…frustrated, perhaps. So she guessed he had.

  “We’ve never seen a profile for Ziloxchanachi,” he said quietly, confirming her guess. “That’s why she couldn’t be Sedated. Zily is Danathalt’s rival. We’d need aether from one of his Gifted to Sedate her.”

  Gifted? He hadn’t used that term with her before, though he had mentioned they used to be called that once. She had heard others there using it, however. “Just because you’ve never seen one, doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist.”

  Vaughn shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We don’t need information on how to Sedate a Gifted with Danathalt as the patron. We needed a way to replicate whatever kept her from being Sedated.” He stared at the formula, looking morose. “We can’t replicate not having a rival.”

  “Can’t is a strong word,” Ivana said. “You have more information now than you did before about how Sedation works. That’s got to count for something.”

  “Something,” Citalli put in, still working. “But whether it will be useful…”

  “Granted,” Ivana said. Not all discoveries led to what one was hoping for—or even anything helpful.

  The door swung open behind them, and heavy footsteps stopped. “What’s going on in here?”

  Aw, damn. Vaughn glanced at the doorway, where Yaotel stood, arms folded across his chest, staring at Ivana.
Which researcher had tattled? Anyone walking by could have seen them working through the windows in the wall.

  He had brought Perrit, the ex-priest, with him, however, which suggested that Yaotel had guessed they were here because they had made a discovery and thought an ex-Conclave’s perspective might be useful.

  Vaughn moved between Ivana and Yaotel. “We made some headway with the translation,” Vaughn said, “and Ivana wanted to test a theory.”

  Yaotel snorted. “What, she’s a scientist now too?”

  Ivana’s face was ice. “Yes, in fact,” she said, matching Yaotel’s withering look with one of her own.

  “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

  “Art,” Ivana retorted. “And music.”

  Yaotel ignored her and went back to speaking about her in the third person. “She’s not allowed down here. Damn it, Vaughn, you know better.”

  Vaughn frowned. What was he, a child? “You told me this was important. I did what was necessary.”

  A muscle jumped in Yaotel’s cheek. What was his problem, lately? Ivana had done nothing but help since she had arrived; granted, she would probably run given the opportunity, but Yaotel could give her a little regard at least.

  “What have you learned?”

  Vaughn looked at Ivana. She was the one who had figured it out. Who had thought to test it. And she understood it better than he did.

  But she nodded to Citalli, giving the ground up. “Show him.”

  Citalli moved Yaotel through all of the same steps Ivana had gone through, ending with the dramatic example of a single Banebringer’s aether taking on another’s.

  When finished, Yaotel looked less perturbed, but he had a frown on his face.

  Ivana took back up the narrative. “In short, our theory is that Sedation works by pitting the aether of two rival gods against each other. The reason your prisoner can’t be Sedated is because the formula the Conclave uses is missing the aether of her patron’s rival, Ziloxchanachi.”

  “Ziloxchanachi doesn’t have Gifted that we know of,” Yaotel said.

  “Hence the reason the Conclave doesn’t have any aether to Sedate her with.”

  Yaotel frowned and turned to Perrit. “Does the Conclave know this?”

  “No,” Perrit said. “They only know that the formula works.” He glanced at the microscope. “And they don’t have any microscopes nearly this powerful, so I don’t know if they could figure it out scientifically even if they wanted to. It’d have to be extreme trial and error, and since they don’t know nearly as much as we do about the heretic gods, I don’t know where they’d get the idea to even try experimenting.”

  “Why bother, when what they’re doing works,” Yaotel muttered. He gestured toward Vaughn. “Why did the sunblood aether win over the moonblood aether, though? Seems like if it’s as simple as rivalry, it’d be a fight, and whoever wins, wins. But that’s obviously not the case, since Sedation works every single time.”

  Ivana gave him a look of grudging respect. “A good question,” she said. “Perhaps if pure aether invades blood that hasn’t been consumed yet, the aether wins against half-blood, half-aether, every time.” She looked at Citalli. “Have you noticed this at all?”

  Citalli rubbed her chin. “Well, the sunblood aether we took from the vial did win against Vaughn’s fresh sample, but when I started mixing only all-aether samples, the winner was unpredictable. Sometimes it was one, sometimes it was the other. But we’ll have to get more fresh samples to be sure.”

  “Great,” Yaotel said. “So the only way to combat Sedation—half of the time—would be to turn all of our living blood into aether while still inside our bodies.” He didn’t sound serious, just grumpy.

  “I’m pretty sure that would kill you,” Citalli put in. “Since the only way we know to turn blood into aether is to expose it to air.

  Yaotel rolled his eyes back. “Yes, thank you, Citalli.” He sighed. “Keep working on it,” he told her. “Get the whole team on it, pool your thoughts on the matter. You never know.”

  Then he turned to Vaughn. “So. Looks like our books were likely a dead end.”

  Vaughn shrugged helplessly. He felt let down. It was a tremendous discovery, but it didn’t help them. “It’s looking that way, for now.”

  Yaotel closed his eyes. “Not what I wanted to hear. But it was always a stretch.” He opened his eyes. “Perrit,” he said. “Get the slaying team together. I’m done with that woman.”

  Perrit inclined his head and left.

  Vaughn blinked. “You’re going to kill her?”

  “You’re the one who told me you thought talking to her was only making her mad, making her summon bloodbane.”

  “But she’s the only Gifted we know of who has Danathalt as her patron!” Citalli put in, looking appalled. “We’ve barely studied—”

  “Have the researchers collect as many samples as they dare,” Yaotel said. “But she’s too dangerous to keep around.”

  Vaughn could only stare at him, his gut feeling like a hole had been punched through it. “You’re going to kill her,” he repeated.

  “Was I unclear the first time?”

  “Since when do—”

  “I didn’t ask for an argument.”

  They didn’t kill Banebringers. They rescued them. What was Yaotel thinking? Surely there was a better way. “You’re no better than them,” he said through clenched teeth.

  Yaotel turned his focus fully on Vaughn. “Pardon?”

  “You don’t like her powers, so you’re going to have her killed.”

  “I do what’s best for the people here, and this is what’s best.”

  “And what if what’s best is starting a war with the Conclave?” Vaughn shot back. Yaotel had always been neutral in that fight. Always.

  The room went silent. Yaotel met Vaughn’s eyes. He didn’t answer. And that was when Vaughn knew. He had finally given in, given up on a less drastic and more peaceful solution. His last lead had been a dead end.

  “Do you know how many people would die?” Vaughn said softly.

  “People who hate us.”

  “Leaving aside that Banebringers would die as well—they hate us because they’re ignorant,” Vaughn said. “And can you blame them, with the destruction we’ve caused?”

  Yaotel’s face twisted. “Not our fault, not our problem.”

  “The Conclave is the enemy,” Vaughn insisted. “They hold the power, the knowledge—”

  “The enemy,” Yaotel interrupted, eyes blazing, “is anyone who would see us wiped out of existence, merely for being alive.” He jabbed a finger at Vaughn. “Your family betrayed you,” he said to Vaughn. “But at least your town didn’t try to lynch them. Being noble has its benefits. Never forget that.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked out.

  Even Citalli was pretending she hadn’t heard anything. Vaughn was seething. As if he hadn’t seen the mobs. As if he hadn’t been the victim of one before. As if his own father hadn’t burned down towns as punishment for sheltering him, even unknowingly. Yes, they all suffered because of the existence of Banebringers. All of them. And he didn’t care what Yaotel said: the Conclave and their dogs were the reason.

  And with the excuse of research gone, Yaotel’s ire would soon turn back to Ivana, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange. Frankly, Vaughn was sick of it.

  They left the research room together and walked in silence down the hall.

  “I’m sorry,” Ivana offered at last.

  “For what?”

  “That we didn’t come up with something that would help.”

  Vaughn grunted. “There are more books. Yaotel might have given up, but I haven’t.”

  “I don’t think Yaotel is going to let me continue working with you.”

  Vaughn stopped to face Ivana. “Yes. That’s another matter. Why does he seem to hate you so much? How do you know each other?” He might as well ask, since she had brought it up.

  Ivana looked down th
e hall, both ways, but it was empty. “I’m not certain,” she said quietly. “But it’s possible I inadvertently killed someone who mattered to him.”

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “Inadvertently?” Was there anything inadvertent about being hired to kill someone?

  “Collateral damage. It happens.”

  Ah. That kind of inadvertent. They started walking again. “When did you meet him?”

  “On a job about six months ago. I had disguised myself as part of Gan Pywell’s harem, and your leader was also apparently in disguise, though I don’t know why, as the eunuch in charge of us.”

  Understanding flooded him. Yaotel had been trying to rescue his sister, who had been essentially enslaved into Gan Pywell’s service after Yaotel had changed into a Banebringer, years ago. Vaughn knew that the rescue attempt had gone poorly, and that Yaotel had been particularly gruff and withdrawn for a while after he had come back. “Gods, Ivana. I’m pretty sure that must have been his sister.”

  “Well. That would explain it.”

  “That would explain it? That’s all you have to say?”

  She stopped again and turned to face him. Her face was hard. “You seem to forget who you’re dealing with. You trust me and you shouldn’t. When it comes to it, I will do what is necessary to protect myself and my own interests, and nothing more. It’s what I am, and it’s who I am. Don’t forget that.”

  She seemed to think that was final, as she turned and left him then. But he set his jaw. He refused to believe it. He had seen someone else inside her, someone who was different, someone he was convinced she had deliberately buried. He just wished he knew how to draw that person out, once and for all.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Memories in Blood

  Ivana had just bathed and was getting ready for bed, when a knock on her door interrupted her preparations. She tugged her robe tighter around herself and answered the door. Vaughn stood there, clutching a small satchel in one hand. His eyes darted down the hall and back, and he shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I come in?”

  Ivana hesitated, but shrugged and let him in. By the time she had closed the door and turned around, he had dragged the one chair in the room to the other side of the bedside table, so that there was a chair on one side and the bed as a seat on the other.